


Snakeskin

by chaos_ineffable



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, Great Good Omens Snake-Off, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Snake Crowley, Snake Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:34:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23194828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaos_ineffable/pseuds/chaos_ineffable
Summary: Crowley's in a bad mood. Aziraphale tries to figure out why. Snake cuddles ensue.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 212
Collections: The Snake Pit





	Snakeskin

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Great Good Omens Snake-Off event on tumblr. It was really nice to sit down and write something for the fun of writing. I've forgotten what that feels like.

Aziraphale likes to consider himself a patient man. He has dealt with a lot over the last six millennia and humans, in all their chaotic beauty, have taught him that patience is indeed a virtue. But even he has a limit. 

And that limit is currently being poked, prodded, nudged, pushed, and elbowed sharply. By his darling husband, no less.

“Angel, why do we have to go again? I thought we were going to have a bit of a lie-in. Do the whole lazy morning lie-in shtick. Cuddle, snog, get some well-deserved rest. Maybe even fuck, if we felt up to it. Why are we not doing that?” Crowley whines, following Aziraphale out of the bookshop and tossing their overnight bags into the back of the Bentley. He leans against the car and folds his arms over his chest, practically radiating displeasure in Aziraphale’s direction.

“Dear,” Aziraphale sighs. He inhales slowly, reminds himself that he is, in fact, in love with the demon, and releases a calming breath. “We have been over this. Anathema and Newt need someone to watch over their cottage while they are visiting Anathema’s family in America. It is only right that we lend them a hand after everything they did to assist with Armageddon. Now, please, stop asking. We are going, whether you like it or not.”

Crowley’s face pinches in anger and he grumbles something under his breath but he doesn’t try and argue further. He pushes off the Bentley and stomps back into the bookshop.

Aziraphale watches him go and adjusts his waistcoat in annoyance. All day, Crowley has been like this – angry and picking for a fight – and Aziraphale cannot begin to fathom why. Life has been good since the failed Apocalypse. They’re finally free to live how they like, to be in love and completely entwined in each other. They’ve been happy. So Crowley’s sudden bad mood leaves the angel confused and more than a little worried. But he already promised Anathema they would be to Jasmin Cottage by this evening, so there is nothing he can do about it now other than ride out the demon’s horrible mood. 

Crowley returns with the box of pastries Aziraphale had put aside for the trip. He places them in the backseat and glares at them, ensuring they won’t dare to be smashed or go stale during the drive to Tadfield. “That should be everything. Get in, angel.”

Aziraphale chooses to ignore the grumpy tone and does as he’s told, settling in for a long, silent ride.

\---

No one is there to greet them when they reach the cute cottage Anathema bought shortly after helping stop the Apocalypse. There is a note on the door written in neat handwriting explaining that Newt and Anathema had had to leave earlier than expected because of a miraculous ticket switch that will get them to America at a far better time than two in the morning. 

Aziraphale glares at Crowley’s back as the demon saunters into the cottage before him, bags in hand and scowl still in place. “Really, dear? We at least could have seen them off.”

Crowley rolls his eyes, the movement obvious despite his dark glasses, and sneers at Aziraphale, “Yes, right, of course. Because going out of our way to help with their damned cottage isn’t enough, we should have walked them into the plane as well. Sorry I didn’t realize this was a fulltime babysitting gig.”

“Really, Crowley, what is wrong with you today?” Aziraphale admonishes. 

Crowley doesn’t respond. He growls and huffs and grumbles his way out of the cottage, slamming the door hard enough to make Aziraphale wince in sympathy for the poor frame. He shakes his head and turns away from the door, looking over the bags Crowley had dropped in the middle of the kitchen floor. With a wave of his hand, they were in the bedroom, tucked neatly under the foot of the bed. 

Crowley will be back, hopefully in a better mood. In the meantime, Aziraphale could really use a cup of tea. It doesn’t take long to find all the necessary parts and he’s lounging on a soft couch with a steaming mug in no time. 

He’s working on his second cup when the door opens and closes softly. He waits expectantly for Crowley to wander in, an apology on his tongue and a fine wine between his fingers. But all he gets is the even softer closing of the bedroom door.

He lets out a sigh. He can’t deny he’s worried now. It has been over a year since they broke ties with Heaven and Hell, a year since Crowley has been this upset about anything and unwilling to tell Aziraphale what is wrong. He sighs and takes a sip of tea. He’ll give Crowley a little more time.

Two hours later and Crowley has yet to leave the bedroom. Quietly, Aziraphale puts his mug down and stands. He has given Crowley long enough to address what the matter is. If he won’t come to Aziraphale, then Aziraphale will just have to go to him.

He knocks softly on the bedroom door. “Crowley, darling, can I come in?”

No response. 

He knocks again and asks the same question a little bit louder. This time there’s a muffled hiss. It sounds annoyed but Aziraphale learned a long time ago that when it comes to Crowley, annoyed doesn’t necessarily mean no.

“Okay, I’m coming in.” The door swings open easily and Aziraphale stares at the sight before him. 

All he sees is black and red. Loops and loops of it fill the room, coiling around the furniture, writhing and shifting constantly. It shines in the low light of the setting sun, glimmering in a way only newly revealed skin can. Around the edges of the room, tucked beneath muscular coils, is a dried-up pile of old skin. A pair of eyes stare unblinking from the mattress, a sheath of white-blue scales covering their true brilliance. A blue-black tongue flicks at the air and Crowley hisses softly. He sounds ashamed.

“Oh, my love. You should have told me you were shedding.”

Crowley hisses again, his tail flicking against Aziraphale’s wrist and wrapping gently around his arm. He shifts his head on the mattress, adjusting his coils, each the width of a small child, and pulls Aziraphale towards the bed.

Aziraphale goes willingly. “Do you need help, dear? Water, perhaps? Although it looks like you’ve got most of it off yourself. And how beautiful you look. Your scales are positively gleaming.”

There is no reaction to his praise. Crowley simply flicks his tongue out again and recoils slightly when it brushes against Aziraphale’s trousers. He recovers quickly and presses his head into Aziraphale’s hand, rubbing his snout against his wrist and working his way up, until he is nosing at Aziraphale’s face. He wraps around the angel’s shoulders and squeezes gently, hissing a soft apology into Aziraphale’s collarbone.

“My heart, there is no need to apologize. I should have asked why you did not want to come here instead of assuming I knew. Let’s both promise to work more on communicating and we can forget any of today ever happened, yes?” 

Crowley unwraps himself from Aziraphale and hisses in agreement. He lowers himself back down to the mattress and rests the side of his head against Aziraphale’s fingers. This close Aziraphale gets a better look at the eye caps. They’re cloudy with a tint of blue and completely cover Crowley’s eyes. “Do you need me to pull these off, darling?”

Crowley nudges his hand again.

Aziraphale pulls away enough to inspect the area around the eye, worrying his fingers until he sees a small flap of dried skin still attached to each eye cap. With a mumbled warning and as gentle a touch as he can manage, he grabs hold and pulls each eye cap away, taking his time to ensure he doesn’t cause any harm.

Crowley lets out a hiss of relief when the second eye cap falls to the floor. He raises his head and twists, inspecting the rest of his very long body before turning to Aziraphale. His eyes, back to their full sunflower glory, are enrapturing. He flicks his tongue, waggling it against Aziraphale’s cheek.

“Oh, stop it, you old fiend,” Aziraphale laughs, stroking a hand down one of the coils near his hip. “Now, why don’t you turn back so we can do some of that cuddling you mentioned earlier.”

The last word barely leaves his lips before he finds himself thrown onto the mattress with several pounds of snake wrapped around him. Crowley rests his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder and offers some more snake kisses. 

Aziraphale shakes his head fondly and wrestles an arm free, patting Crowley’s snout before miracling a book into his hand. “I suppose this works too, wily serpent,” he mumbles happily before he settles further into the comfortable weight of Crowley’s coils and prepares for a long night of snake cuddles. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed! Let me know what you think in the comments! Or come visit me on my tumblr at [chaos-ineffable](https://chaos-ineffable.tumblr.com/) !


End file.
